


The Wish

by lickitysplit



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Wish Fulfillment, Wishes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickitysplit/pseuds/lickitysplit
Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth? Set between DMC4 and DMC5.
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante & Sparda & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante/Original Character(s), Eva/Sparda (Devil May Cry), Lady/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero & V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 99





	1. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new story! I want to first thank Solynacea for beta reading and being an amazing cheerleader as I wrote this. I have also borrowed her OC, Lir, to join this story. You might remember Lir from "Promise Me Forever", but this is a completely different version of her, so hopefully you'll enjoy her just as much!
> 
> I'll be updating about every week, so please look for more to come soon. I always love hearing from you, so please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments!

“Nero!” Dante’s voice echoes down the hallway as he peers through the rush of demons, swinging Rebellion as best as he is able as he scans for him. “You good?”

“Need help already?” The kid sounds nearby, but down a ways, and Dante snorts at the smart-aleck response. He bites back a response, remembering what it was like to be nineteen and feel invincible, to have power and stamina and enjoy the rush of killing demons.

It’s different now that he is older, the moves as familiar as breathing, the enemies mundane as paint drying. Meeting Nero and getting to know the kid, training him, especially with his suspicions all but confirmed, has breathed new life into the legendary devil hunter: but it’s still just a regular Friday night, clearing out another warehouse that houses another cell of demons for another client that’s just going to bitch about the holes left in the walls. 

Dante continues pushing forward, slicing off arms and heads as he goes. There has to be a queen mother up ahead; no way this many slipped through a portal, these babies were bred. Maybe getting to the big bad will be interesting, and then he and Nero can stop before going into Fortuna to get a drink or six. Maybe he’ll even let Dante crash on the couch, now that he and Kyrie have set up in a house in town and have the room.

The drone of Red Queen suddenly cuts off, the lack of white noise catching his attention. “Nero?” he calls again, but this time instead of a snarky comment two shots ring out in response, followed by the entire building shaking as a roar goes up from inside. “Nero!” Dante shouts, slicing as he doubles his speed, actually  _ trying _ now so he can find the kid and find out why the hell he needed his gun in such close quarters. Either he forgot one of Dante’s rules for demon hunting (“don’t shoot a gun in a tight space, dumbass”) or he’s in trouble.

Turns out it’s trouble—well, sort of. They are on the third floor, having been going methodically through each level to clear it out, and when Dante skids to a stop in the central part where the elevators are, he finds them gone. Instead, there is a huge hole where the elevators used to be, the concrete and iron in a heap below them where it had collapsed.

He looks up to see Nero on the other side of the giant hole, wiping his brow with his forearm. “You okay, kid?” Dante calls over.

“Yeah,” Nero shouts with a bit of a laugh. “I got them corralled but I guess the weight was too much. Just managed to jump out of the way.”

Dante shakes his head. “Stay there and I’ll come get you.”

“Nah, I got this. There’s gotta be a set of fire stairs at the end.” Nero points Red Queen towards the dark hallway behind him. “Let’s make sure that was the last of them. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

“Yeah.” Dante sighs as he watches Nero go, and then looks around at where the floor and elevators had broken from the supports and given way. No way the weight made this happen; you could probably park a semi in here and it would hold. The building is structurally sound, supposed to be anyway, and it would take more than a few dozen demons to knock a hole in it. No, something  _ made _ the floor collapse, and his gaze goes upwards, wondering where the queen bee could be hiding.

Dante doubles back and finds his staircase, taking the steps two at a time upwards. The hallways are eerily empty after the deluge in the bottom floors, and he stalks carefully through, checking each office. The damn place has a thousand places to hide, so there is no telling where the big bad could be.

On the top floor, lucky number seven, he hits the jackpot. The second he steps out from the stairwell Ebony and Ivory are drawn as he picks his way through the nest that covers the walls and floor and even ceiling. The emergency lights give a weird glow to everything, but his demon eyes can see clearly in the dim light as he listens carefully for movement.

He finds the demon in the corner office, thinking it has good taste and laughing at his own joke. At first he doesn’t see the queen, but a shift in the air catches his eye and he fires both guns into the dark, smiling at the sound of bullets making their impact.

With a wail it emerges from the shadow, clutching its chest. “What did you do that for?” the demon yells.

“Eviction notice, numbnuts,” he says. “Time to head back to wherever the fuck you came from.”

“I can’t,” the demon argues. “I have my eggs to hatch, my babies to look after—”

“Babies?” Dante chuckles, scratching his head as he places his other hand on his hip. “Sorry, I think I killed all of ‘em.”

The demon snarls. But instead of threatening him, Dante is surprised when it asks, “What do you want?”

“What?” he blinks.

“What do you want? To leave me alone?”

Dante huffs. “Don’t work like that, sweetheart.”

The demon moves closer and he aims his guns again. It starts to unfold itself from its spot, and Dante’s eyebrows go up to see it’s probably almost seventeen feet tall, completely squished into the office. “My name is Veguaniel,” it says. “I am the demon of fortune.”

“Good for you.”

“How much do you want?” the demon asks. “How much are you being paid to kill me? I can double it. Triple it even.”

“Are you serious?” he groans. “I don’t do this for the money.”

The demon looks him up and down. “That’s obvious.”

“Watch it.” He points the guns at its head, and the demon shrinks back a bit. 

“I want to pay you! I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! You’d never have to slaughter the innocents like me again!” Dante snorts as it tilts its head. “You can’t possibly  _ like _ doing this.”

He cocks the hammer on each gun. “Not about liking it. About paying the bills.”

The demon gives an annoyed huff. “This is what I’m saying. I can make you rich. I can buy you whatever you want. There’s got to be  _ something _ you’d rather be doing than this. Would you like a mansion? A yacht? How about a palace?”

Dante chuckles to himself, but admits it’s almost tempting. Suppose this demon has some fortune granting power? He tries to think of himself as some fancy millionaire and fails. To be honest, all he would really want is a nice house and a nicer bike. Maybe work on engines, build things? Meet a pretty girl with a sharp wit and killer smile and settle down, like Nero and Kyrie have.

“This is stupid,” he says. “Not gonna happen.”

“So why do you do it?” it asks. “There must be  _ something _ a god of fortune can give you for one tiny,  _ little _ favor.”

Dante growls under his breath, his patience out. “I’m a devil hunter because  _ I’ve _ been hunted by demons my whole life,” he snaps. “Ever since you fuckers came down on my house when I was a kid, killed my family, and then made my life miserable. Getting paid is just a bonus.”

“Hmmm.” A tentacle slithers out and taps on the demon’s cheek, as if it is thinking. “Did that make you sad?”

_ “What?” _

“Did losing your family and all that make you  _ sad?” _

“What the hell? Of course it did!” Dante snaps. “But I don’t see why—”

“So you wouldn’t be a demon hunter if they hadn’t died, is that it?” The demon’s voice trails off, and Dante frowns. “I can grant you a fortune that has nothing to do with money. Would you like your family back?”

He grits his teeth, anger starting to bubble. “Shut the hell up.”

The demon bares its teeth in a grotesque smile. “Done.”

The floor gives way, and Dante shouts as he falls, firing upwards. He gets a glance of the demon waving to him just moments before he lands headfirst on the concrete and the world goes black.

* * *

The squeak of the shower turning on wakes him. Dante opens his eyes and immediately regrets it, pain piercing his temples like an ice pick to the brain. “Damn it,” he sighs, reaching up to rub his forehead.

The ceiling is white, not the faded yellow of his place, so he figures he must be at Nero’s. Damn, did the kid have to find him  _ and _ save his ass? He’ll never live this down, and as he stretches his stiff limbs he sighs and closes his eyes again. 

He remembers the warehouse and the demons, and Nero getting separated. Then he had found the head at the top of the building and it had… asked him about his family? Dante frowns, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. Demons are getting fucking weirder by the day.

He enjoys the few minutes of quiet until the shower turns off. Dante sighs, moving to roll over and sit up. Either Nero or Kyrie are in there, so he figures he’ll go downstairs and give them privacy, but when he sits up he notices two things. First, he’s in just his boxers, which is weird because that means Nero undressed him. Also, he doesn’t own boxers, preferring to let his junk ride free, knowing the ladies liked how it looked in tight denim.

Second, their bedroom is way different than it was. He’s been there a few times but he helped Nero paint the house and their bedroom was definitely green. Dante remembers this because Nero had bitched about the color to him because he couldn’t to Kyrie. But the bedroom is now a soft shade of blue, and he wonders if the kid finally confessed that the color sage reminded him of puke.

The door to the bathroom opens and a woman walks out wrapped in a towel. He blinks when it’s immediately obvious it is  _ not _ Kyrie: this one is shorter, slimmer, her platinum hair almost white like his and falling in a trendy bob style at her shoulders. The woman takes no notice of him, moving to a set of drawers and opening the top one. 

“Uh, excuse me?” Dante says.

The woman looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Who are you?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “Har har, very funny.” She goes back to pulling out clothes and says, “I know I said I’d never work on a Saturday, but Jenny’s kid is sick and I didn’t have the heart to make her come in. But I promise it’s only a half shift, and I’ll be home by two.” 

That doesn’t answer his question at all, but before he can point that out she drops the towel. Dante spins quickly, his heart pounding as he yanks the sheet up over his lap, hissing, “What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m covering for Jenny. It’ll be easy enough for a Saturday. It’s a nice day out, nobody goes to the library when it’s sunny.” Dante peeks over to see her thankfully wearing a bra and panties, which he stares at for a moment before remembering he shouldn’t be staring. He looks down at his own lack of clothes and frowns, wondering if it’s  _ her _ house he slept in. Does that mean they had sex? Maybe he and Nero made it to the bar after all and he got lucky?

_ Not bad, _ he thinks as he looks back to where she is shimmying on a pair of jeans. She’s cute enough at least, gorgeous even, although he wishes he could remember her name. “Hey, uh—”

“Don’t forget to be ready by five,” she says, rolling on deodorant. Then she glances over at him and frowns. “You okay?”

“No. Yes. Sorry, five?” 

Dante frowns and she laughs. “Yes. Reservations are at five-thirty and you know if we’re a minute late your brother will start complaining.”

_ That _ gets his attention, and Dante feels the blood drain from his face. “My… brother?”

“Yes. It’s your parents’ anniversary. Remember?” Dressed now, she runs a brush through her hair as she sighs. “Please tell me you didn’t forget. This has been planned for weeks.”

Dante jumps up and stalks towards her, pulling the brush from her hand and grabbing her elbow to turn her. She only comes up to about his shoulders, and his expression goes menacing as he glares down at her surprised one. “What do you know about my parents?”

“Dante, what in the world? What is wrong with you?” The concern in her voice tempers him a bit, and she pulls her arm away to press a palm to his cheek. She examines his eyes closely as she asks, “Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head or something? You look strange.”

“I…”  _ I fell, _ he wants to say, but she brushes his jaw gently. “Why don’t you take it easy today? You’ll have the whole house to yourself. Get some coffee and just relax, and when I get home we’ll see how you feel, okay?”

_ Did losing your family and all that make you sad?  _ Where did  _ that _ come from? “What about my parents?” he asks again harshly.

She takes a steady breath. “It’s the thirteenth. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary. We’re all going out to dinner to celebrate.” Then she rubs his arm gently, and it’s then that he notices the band on her ring finger. His eyes go wide, and startled, he looks at his own left hand, where a matching gold band sits on his fourth finger.

His blood is pounding in his ears so loudly he barely hears her goodbye. “Just stay home and relax,” she says, and when she reaches up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek it pulls Dante back to the present. 

He watches her walk through the room and grab her purse just as she reaches the door. Then he is left blinking as the door shuts, the sound of his raging heartbeat still thundering in his ears.


	2. Pictures and Clues

Dante spends a full ten minutes just sitting on the bed in his underwear. He reviews every step of the night before: Nero texting him about this job, catching the train to Fortuna, the two of them driving out to the warehouse with the radio blaring and picking up burgers on the way. Then the demons, dozens upon dozens, that weren’t difficult but packed to the brim so that when they pried open the front door of the building they swarmed like roaches.

He had found the queen at the top, but there it gets fuzzy. It talked to him, but about what? Something about his family? Every time he gets to that part, his headache turns a little sharper, so Dante decides to give thinking a rest so he can figure out where the hell he actually is.

His jeans are slung over a chair so he grabs them and fishes inside for his cell phone. It’s different from the one he normally has, and he frowns as he turns it on and finds a passcode. He tries the first thing he can think of—1, 2, 3, 4, easy enough—and luckily it works. Quickly he dials Nero’s number, but isn’t really surprised when the automated voice comes on the line to tell him that number is not in service.

Dante scratches the back of his head. He’s here, in a strange house with a woman who knows his parents, and Nero is… somewhere. Got it. 

But then he wonders if something might have happened to Nero. What if he needs his help? Then this has got to be a dream, right? So how does he wake up?

Once he pulls his jeans on and finds a t-shirt in the other set of drawers, he tries the door. Cautiously he opens it, but the house is quiet, so Dante slips into the hallway. There are two other bedrooms and a bathroom which look suspiciously normal. Even the closets are tidy, and Dante snorts when he gets to the linen closet. This must be a dream. Who owns so many towels?

Next, he heads downstairs to the main floor. At the bottom is a living room, complete with a comfortable-looking sofa and a big-screen television. Dante stands in front of it and admires it for a minute before grabbing the remote control. He lets out a low whistle when he sees the picture quality, thinking if this is a dream, he’s got good taste.

_ That demon’s got good taste. _

Dante shakes his head and continues his search. A small dining room is to the left, and to the right is a hallway leading to another half bath. The kitchen is nice too, the dishwasher humming and a pot of coffee warm on the counter. Even the refrigerator is stocked, and Dante helps himself to a piece of chicken he finds in a plastic container, figuring he can eat whatever he wants in a dream.

Out the kitchen window he can see a little backyard, and Dante sighs as he leans against the counter and chews thoughtfully. It’s a nice enough house, something any ordinary couple might buy for a starter home. He glances down at the gold band on his finger, holding it up so he can examine it closely. Setting the chicken down, he wipes his hand on his jeans and slips it off, turning it over until he notices an inscription on the inside:  _ Dante and Lir Forever. _

He pictures the cute blonde who was half his size but acted more than familiar. “Lir,” he murmurs out loud, slipping the ring back on as he looks around.

Wandering back through the house, Dante notices some pictures sitting on the windowsill in the living room. He walks over and picks up the first one, his face going a bit pale. He is in a suit, and that woman‚ Lir, is in a wedding dress. They are posed and smiling in front of a cake, holding a knife together as if to cut it. He turns it over but there’s nothing out of the ordinary about it, and Dante snorts as he sets it back down again.

The next few are of them as well: a selfie in winter gear, posing in what Patty would call “Sunday attire”, in bathing suits at a beach, arms around each other and grinning at the camera. He’s gotta admit, they look pretty good together. His brain did a good job dreaming this girl up.

The next photo, however, feels like a punch to the gut. It’s a double-sided frame on a hinge, and on one side it’s him and a man who looks  _ exactly _ like him, only his hair is slicked back instead of hanging in fringes around his face. In fact, he looks exactly like what Vergil would look like. If he was still alive.

Dante's hand shakes as he examines the picture. It  _ is _ Vergil, it's  _ got _ to be, the same slightly slimmer build and the half-inch in height that made it possible to tell them apart. The only thing that shocks him more than seeing this picture is the one opposite. Across from Dante and Vergil posed with small smiles is Vergil and Lady, her hand in his arm as they smile into the camera. 

Gripping the picture frame, he grabs the next one and braces himself. Staring up at him are two people he somewhat recognizes, as if he had seen them in a dream. They are older, in their 60s maybe, the man grinning with his arm around his wife, sitting together on a couch. He has longish silver hair, not unlike Dante's, a pair of glasses hanging around his neck. Her blonde hair is swept up into a bun, streaks of white only making her more dignified, her hand on the man's knee. Dante brings the picture up so close his nose nearly touches it, and that's when he realizes that the woman is a dead ringer for Trish, if Trish was about 40 years older.

His cell phone rings in his pocket, startling him out of his examination. Dante fumbles for the phone but freezes when he sees the name Vergil appear on the screen. It takes another three rings before he gets the courage to answer. "Yeah?"

"Did I wake you or something?"

Dante staggers to the couch and sits heavily, still clutching the two pictures in his hands. He knew what to expect, but nothing could have prepared him for hearing that voice on the other end. "Dante," it says again. "You there?"

"Y-yeah," he stammers, his voice cracking around a dry throat. "Verge, is that you?"

"Of course it's me. I want to talk about tonight." Dante's eyes close as he listens, trying not to freak out. Even Vergil's exasperation for him is the same. "I'm paying for dinner, and I don't want to hear anything about it. We need to settle this now so we don't argue at the restaurant."

"What uh…" Dante's mind is spinning and he shakes his head to clear it. "Yeah uh, Lir mentioned something about a dinner. Do you know Lir?"

"I'm surprised you forgot, Dante. Usually you remember these sorts of things." Dante leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tries to breathe. "This dinner tonight is important and I don't want a scene. Just let me pay for it, and afterward we can agree on how you'll pay me back your half. Agreed?"

Dante swallows thickly. "Yeah, yeah that's fine. Vergil. Vergil."

Even saying his name gives Dante the shivers. "Well I expected more of an argument. Glad you're going to listen to reason. Don't be late."

"Wait, Verge?" Dante looks down at the picture in his hand, something hot and tight tickling his throat. "Can I see you? Can you come over?"

"What for? I'll be seeing you tonight, and I have the kids. Are you sick? Where's Lir?"

"She covered a shift," Dante replies. "Please, Verge, I got… I need to say some things."

"Well say it tonight. I'm not driving all the way over there when I'll see you in a few hours."

Dante chuckles, swallowing tears as his breath escapes in a laugh. "Okay. Yeah. Hey uh, is mom and dad… they really gonna be there? At this dinner thing?"

There is a long pause, and then Vergil huffs, "Don't be stupid," before hanging up on him.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon Dante spends figuring out his life. He finds photo albums in the closet, handmade scrapbooks that Lir definitely made. They chronicle some of their vacations, and he smiles as he turns the pages to see them camping, at the beach, at Disneyworld. The wedding one makes him wince a bit, the smiling faces of his brother and his parents making something in his chest tight. The date on the preserved invitation tells him they’ve been married about ten years, which is pretty funny since the longest relationship he’s ever had was about ten minutes after getting dressed.

He looks weird in a suit, and Dante snorts to think what Lady or Trish would say if they saw him. But Lady  _ is _ there, on Vergil’s arm, and  _ that _ is a mystery he can’t wait to solve. And Trish kind of is there, in the form of his mother, looking slightly older but just as lovely.

There is a drawer in the desk in the office that has some bills, and he boots up the computer to take a look through. The email is pretty normal, receipts from online orders and utility companies, messages from the family and people he doesn’t know. There is a link to a bank account and Dante’s brows lift to see the balance. Compared to his normal finances, the amount seems like a small fortune.

_ There must be  _ something _ a god of fortune can give you. _

A cat appears suddenly, jumping onto the desk and stalking across the keyboard to plop across his arms. Dante pulls back in reaction, which earns him a very annoyed look from the cat. “Hey uh, there,” he says, tentatively reaching out to pat its head.

The cat snaps at him, and Dante rolls his eyes. He never got along with animals as a rule. “So you want to sit on my computer as I’m using it but I can’t pet you, hm?” he grumbles. The cat yawns in response, so he decides to go find lunch instead.

There’s not much more to discover after having a sandwich. His life seems completely ordinary, although he doesn’t know exactly what he does or even if he’s still in Red Grave City. The other question still to solve is Nero. If Vergil is alive and married to Lady, then does Nero even exist? His face goes a bit hot to think of the kid not being around. But Vergil had mentioned kids on the phone… is it possible?

He is dozing on the couch and watching television when the door bursts open. Dante is on his feet and reaching for his guns that aren’t there when Lir hurries in, her arms filled with dry cleaning as she comes like a whirlwind into the living room. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I can’t believe I got stuck there! I  _ told _ them I couldn’t stay, and now look at the time!”

She pushes the clothes and plastic into his arms and pulls her cell phone from her purse. “Did you take a shower yet? You still need to shave. You are going to shave, right? You can’t look like a sasquatch at the party.”

Lir looks up at him expectantly, and Dante shrugs. “Yeah, I guess?”

“Good. Wait. Are you okay?” She steps up and presses a hand to his forehead. “You were sick this morning. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” he assures her. “I had a weird dream.”

She smiles, and his heart actually skips a beat. His brain is  _ good. _ “Good. Did you feed Claudius?”

“Claudius?”

“Yes. The cat.” Lir laughs and pats his chest. “Was he a problem today?”

Dante thinks about the cat that interrupted his computer search. “No. And no, I didn’t feed him.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it. You go shower and get dressed. And don’t take too much off, you know I prefer a bit of facial hair.” She takes the dry cleaning from his arms and pulls one of the hangers to hand back to him. “Here’s your shirt and pants. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah.” He watches her step around him, draping the rest of the clothes over the back of a chair before disappearing into the kitchen. If this is a dream, it’s more vivid than any he can remember.

The shower feels good, even if Dante is amazed by how many things are on the shelves. He’s never lived with a girl but is there anything needed really other than a bar of soap? In one of the drawers under the sink he finds a shaving kit and goes to work before the shower fixing up his face just like she asked. It occurs to Dante that this is  _ his _ dream and he can do whatever he wants, but something makes him not want to disappoint her, so he makes sure to leave a nicely trimmed beard while removing the rest from his cheeks and neck. Once the shower is hot, he goes for the least-strange sounding soaps before finishing up and drying off with a nice fluffy towel.

He peeks into the bedroom and finds it empty. Quickly he hurries over to the bureau and opens the top drawer, rummaging around for some underwear. Dante just has his first foot in when Lir enters, and he yelps when he sees her. “Hey! I’m getting dressed!” he protests.

She freezes and looks at him in surprise as he pulls his boxer briefs up. “Yeah. I see that.” With a laugh she moves to the closet and hangs the rest of the dry cleaning up before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Dante frowns before he remembers,  _ they are married. _ He rubs his hand on his face with an internal groan. He is going to have to get used to this as long as this dream or whatever lasted, including being half-dressed in front of her. While she’s gone he quickly pulls on the dark slacks and gray dress shirt before heading to the closet. He finds some black dress shoes he figures Lir will like, and once he’s all ready he stands and looks at himself in the full-length mirror that is propped against the wall. 

Dante barely recognizes himself without the low-slung denim and some red leather, but he figures he still looks pretty good. As long as he looks better than Vergil, he’ll be satisfied, chuckling to himself at the thought. But then he sobers a bit as his stomach turns, wondering what it will be like to see Vergil again. The last time was on Mallet Island, and before that, watching him fall off the Temen-ni-gru. Did that even happen in this place? There had to be a Temen-ni-gru if Lady was here, right? He shakes his head, confused as ever. He needs to figure this out, and fast.

Lir steps past him, again dressed in only a bra and panties, and Dante quickly looks the other way as she pulls her dress over her head. “Will you get this zipper?” she asks as she steps into a pair of heels.

Clearing his throat, he steps up behind her and carefully pulls the zipper up as she smooths her hands down the front. It’s a sleeveless blue little number that fits her just right, and when she turns around to fix his collar he admires how nice she looks. “Okay,” Lir smiles. “You ready to go? Dinner with the family is always interesting.”

_ Dinner with the family. _ “Yeah, I’m ready,” he grins. Maybe the mystery-solving can wait until after seeing them again at least. Couldn’t hurt, right?


	3. Family Dinner

The entire ride to the restaurant, Dante spends his time half-listening to Lir talk about her day and half looking at everything. They  _ are _ in Red Grave City, but it’s different: cleaner somehow, less polluted, less scummy. They pass a few familiar landmarks on their way through downtown from where their house is in the more residential part of the city, and at one point go by a turnoff that will take them to the shop. Dante perks up a bit but she makes a left instead of a right, and he presses his lips together, wondering if he should ask her to turn around. But he decides against it in the end; the city looks strange enough as it is, and if they roll up to the Devil May Cry and it’s a hair salon or something he just might lose it.

Dante is nervous as hell when Lir pulls their car into the parking lot of the Italian restaurant. She breathes a sigh of relief as she turns off the engine and unbuckles her seat belt. “Five twenty-five,” she says with a grin. “Now we don’t have to listen to Vergil complain about us being late.”

He only nods as they climb out of the car, and he quickly scoots around so he can shut her door for her. Lir gives him a thanks before taking his hand, heat crawling up his neck as they head into the restaurant.

“Sparda family,” she tells the hostess as Dante looks around. It’s a smaller kind of place but lots of atmosphere, the lighting a bit low and Frank Sinatra playing quietly on the speakers. Dante stares at the huge fish tank next to the entrance as the hostess makes a note in the guest book. “You have a table in the back. This way,” she says.

Lir’s hand is steady on his as they follow to the back of the restaurant. But it’s enough to make him go numb when sure enough, Vergil is sitting at the table, talking to Lady. Lir calls a greeting and he stands up to give her a kiss on the cheek before turning to Dante. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, looking him up and down.

Dante realizes he probably is gaping, so to cover his shock he shakes his head. Vergil snorts and moves to sit back down, but Dante reaches out and grabs his arm. He pulls his brother into a hug, squeezing him hard, and after a moment he can practically feel the stares from everyone else around him.

Easing back, he smiles sheepishly at the very confused-looking Vergil. “Good to see you, Verge,” Dante grins, clapping him on the arm.

“Okay…” 

“Lady! Looking good!” 

The others look at him funny, and Lady folds her arms. “Why are you calling me that?”

Dante scratches his chin. “Ain’t that your name? Lady?”

“That’s not some lady, that’s my wife,” Vergil scoffs. He turns to Lir and asks, “Did he suffer some kind of brain damage?”

“No, he’s just joking. Badly.” Lir tugs on his sleeve and says, “Come sit. Do you want to sit next to Mary or to Vergil?”

“Mary. Right.” Dante clears his throat as she steers him to a seat, taking the one between him and Lady. Or Mary. Whoever she is. 

The two women start chatting and Dante stares at Lady, noting how different she looks without the blunt haircut and the scar on her nose. She still has the heterochromia, but her dark hair is down to her shoulders, and Dante notes that she’s actually wearing normal pants and a blouse and not some too-small schoolgirl uniform or looking like a step above a stripper.

Lady shoots him a look with a wry smile. “Why are you staring? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Dante answers quickly. “Sorry. Guess I haven’t uh… seen you in a while?”

“Yeah, things have been busy.” She picks up a glass of red wine and takes a sip. “How is business going?”

Dante wonders himself, but replies, “Good. Going good.”

“Good to hear.” She turns and calls to the other end of the table, “Boys? Did you say hello to your uncle?”

He glances down, his eyes going wide. How did he not notice the two sitting at the other end? Vergil is talking to one, a boy of about ten or eleven with longish silver hair, just like he and Vergil have. It’s the spitting image of Nero, and Dante figures he has one mystery solved at least.

Another boy sits next to him, dark hair hanging in his eyes which are glued to a cell phone. Vergil says something to him and the boy looks up and makes a face. He too looks exactly like Vergil, except for the dark features, and Dante frowns. “Are those…?”

“Yeah, Nero and Vitale are getting big, hm?” Lady smiles rather affectionately down at them. “They hit eleven last month and bam, both shot up about three inches. I can barely keep them in clothes.”

“Nero,” Dante sighs with a grin. The kid turns from talking to Vergil to offer him a wave, and the other glances upwards again. “And… Vitale?”

“I go by V now,” he answers curtly before rolling his eyes and looking down at the screen.

“Don’t be rude,” Lady scolds.

Lir laughs. “Teenagers, what can you do? I can’t believe how big the twins have gotten. They are young men now.”

Dante sits back in his chair, tuning out the rest of the conversation as he stares at the two boys. So Nero is only eleven, not nineteen, and Dante makes a quick calculation. Vergil could have still met Lady—Mary—at the Temen-ni-gru, but he definitely wouldn’t have gone to Fortuna first. Does that mean he wouldn’t have had Yamato? Without the sword he had no hope of opening the portal, and Dante frowns in thought. Most likely Vergil never went to hell, which sort of makes sense if they hadn’t been orphaned. So does that mean nothing else happened either? Did the Order still exist? Did it worship his old man? Is Mallet Island still there? If Dante never had a reason to go there, does that mean Mundus is still out there somewhere?

His questions are interrupted by Lir’s hand on his arm. “You okay?” she asks.

He looks up to see the three adults staring at him. “Yeah. I was uh… trying to remember something.” Dante leans forward and nods to Vergil and Lady. “Remind me, how did you two meet?”

Lady blushes a bit but Vergil clears his throat. “I worked for Mary’s father when I was in college, before he died. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Dante chuckles. “Not one bit.”

“Typical,” Vergil mutters, but before he can protest his parents arrive.

Just like when he looked at the photographs in their house, Eva and Sparda seem like something out of a dream. Dante stays seated as he watches the family give hugs in turn, his heart beating ridiculously fast in his chest.

Sparda has longish hair pulled back into a ponytail, and coupled with the tan linen pants and a button-down shirt with a bold flower pattern, he looks like a retiree on vacation in the Bahamas. Dante grins to himself, trying to remember if his father always had that sense of fashion, especially contrasted to his mother. Eva looks graceful and elegant, the handful of fine lines and silver streaks in her hair giving her the appearance of a matriarch. But she is unmistakable, especially since he’s been looking at her picture on his desk for two decades. When her eyes turn to him, he feels frozen by how  _ alive _ she is until she reaches out a hand. “Dante, are you okay?” Eva laughs.

The laugh he recognizes instantly from deep within his memory. He’s on his feet in a moment, wrapping her into a tight hug. Her perfume is even familiar, and Dante takes a deep breath as he tries to memorize everything for when he wakes up. It’s been a really long time since he’s had a dream about her, and usually she has a sad smile, fear in her eyes, as she tells him to hide in the closet.

Eva places a kiss on his cheek that makes his eyes a bit misty. Then Sparda pats him on the arm, and unwilling to let Eva go just yet, Dante wraps it around his father in a group hug. He knows he must look ridiculous, but this is too much to take in at once, and he doesn’t let go until he is sure he can breathe.

Lir pats his thigh when he sits back down. She gives him a smile that he can’t quite interpret as the waitress arrives to take their drink orders.

The dinner is fun, more fun than Dante could remember having in a while. And that’s saying something since he and Nero went camping a few weekends ago, and the Love Planet had gotten a karaoke machine. Even the twins perk up when their grandparents arrive, especially when Sparda pulls out a wad of twenty-dollar bills. “Don’t spoil them,” Vergil groans.

“Nonsense,” Sparda says, pulling out several for each boy. “No such thing as spoiling your grandsons.”

Dante frowns as the others laugh. He doesn’t remember Sparda being like… well, this. Warm, sure, but this generous? He didn’t exactly dote on him and Vergil, leaving a lot of the child-rearing to Eva. A few memories surface, mostly listening to Sparda telling stories that were as exciting as they were scary and sneaking into his study to look at his weapons. Maybe being a grandparent is different than a parent? Or maybe Sparda is as different in this dream as everyone and everything else is.

“You’re usually much more talkative, Dante,” Eva comments.

He clears his throat but Lir leans over him a bit and says, “He wasn’t feeling well this morning. Forgot all about what day it was.”

“Are you coming down with something?” asks Eva, her face drawn in concern.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Dante answers. “I think I was having a weird dream.”

“What was it about?” Vergil asks.

Dante takes a sip of water to cover his discomfort with the question. “Everyone was dead, basically,” he says bluntly.

“Dante!” Lir exclaims as the others laugh.

“What?” he chuckles. “He asked.”

“What did we die of?” Sparda asks.

“Uh…” Dante rubs the back of his neck. “There was an attack. But not everyone was dead. La—uh, Mary, was alive. And Nero.” He turns to Lir. “You didn’t even exist.”

Lir laughs. “No wonder you were so out of it.”

The conversation turns to weird dreams people have had in the past, but Dante notices that his father gives him a strange look. Dante’s brows lift a bit in question, but Sparda doesn’t say anything, leaving him to wonder.

The food is the best he’s had in ages, and Dante eats until he is ready to burst. Vergil pokes fun at him which he gives right back, enjoying the scowl on his brother’s face when he tells a slightly raunchy joke and makes Nero laugh. Sparda laughs too, and Dante ignores Lady’s scolding, used to tuning her out. But when Lir rubs his thigh, it draws his attention, and Dante realizes at some point he had slung his arm around her. “Behave yourself,” she whispers with a smile.

There is something in her gaze that is almost like a promise, a shared connection he doesn’t quite understand. It’s enough to make his neck heat, and he shifts in his seat as he mumbles an apology. “Don’t go repeating that, Nero,” he says.

“Can me and V come hang out at the shop next week?” Nero asks. 

Both boys look at him expectantly, and he shrugs as his eyes glance towards Vergil. “As long as your old man says it’s okay,” he replies.

“It’s fine,” Lady says. “Just don’t let them touch the equipment.”

Dante pictures Agni and Rudra hanging on the wall, Cerberus above the door, Beowulf in the closet. “Yeah, okay,” he nods. “I’ll put the guns away too.”

Lir snorts but Vergil narrows his eyes. “It’s not a joke, Dante. I don’t want them touching anything that can get their hand blown off.”

“Well, Nevan is the only thing that can really blow off a hand, but I got a case for her,” he replies.

Vergil waves him off and the conversation resumes, and again Dante notices his father staring at him. Sparda looks shocked, like he’s seen a ghost, and when Dante raises his brows in question his father only shakes his head and quickly goes back to his chocolate cake.

At the end of the meal, Dante doesn’t want to leave, but the others start saying their goodbyes. He hugs his mother tightly and kisses her cheek, earning himself one of her laughs. “Always so sweet,” she murmurs.

His father shakes his hand, but wears a frown. Sparda pulls him in a bit close and murmurs so only Dante can hear, “What you said earlier? You were joking, right?”

“Huh?”

Sparda clears his throat and scratches his nose, glancing around like a conspirator. “You said you had Nevan in a case. Did you read that somewhere?”

“What are you talking about?” Dante laughs.

“Oh! Right, right, nevermind. I must have thought you meant something else.” Dante wrinkles his brow in confusion, but then realizes his father probably doesn’t know Nevan was turned into a guitar. He starts to explain but Sparda cuts him off. “Can we meet for lunch next week?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Dante says excitedly.

“Good.” Sparda pats his arm, giving him another strange look before moving away.

Lady promises to text him and they leave Vergil to grumble over the bill and head to the car. Lir offers to drive again, which he takes gratefully. They are back on the road a minute later, and Dante leans the seat back with a deep sigh. “That was so good,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, it was fun.” His eyes are drooping so he misses Lir’s sideways glance when she asks, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really keep a gun in the shop?”

Dante sits up and frowns at her, and Lir quickly goes on, “I understand why you would, really I do. I was just surprised. I thought it was a joke, but it didn’t sound like one.” He shakes his head, thoroughly confused, and Lir asks, “Well? Did you buy a gun?”

He clears his throat and adjusts his seatbelt. “I have a few, yeah?”

“A few.” Lir considers this for a moment before sighing. “I can’t say that I’m comfortable with it, but again, I can see why. You are safe with them? They are locked up and everything?”

Dante thinks about Ebony and Ivory in the drawer of his desk. “Sure,” he says. 

Claudius is there to greet them when they get home, and Dante watches with some amusement as Lir scoops him up and coos at him sweetly as she carries him to the kitchen. Suddenly tired, he heads upstairs to change out of his clothes, deciding to stay in the boxer briefs for bed. She’s seen him already like that anyway, right?

Lir joins him a few minutes later, when Dante is already settled in bed and flicking through the television stations. He tries not to look as she changes into a short nightgown, sitting up on the pillows when she slides into bed.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, but Lir takes the remote control and turns the television off. She straddles his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders, and Dante gulps as he looks up at her smile. 

“It was such a nice night. You were so sweet with your parents,” she sighs. She leans in and kisses his cheek, making Dante jump. “And no arguing either. I’m very proud of you.”

“So you uh… you’re not mad about the guns?” he asks.

Lir shakes her head. “No. In fact…” Her voice trails off as she drags her palms down his chest, making his breath catch. “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“Really?” he asks, brows shooting up in surprise. She nods, and then rocks her hips, and Dante bites back a groan. Even through the fabric of his shorts he can feel how hot she is, and he has a very firm suspicion that if he lifted her gown, he’d find she was wearing nothing underneath.

Lir continues grinding against him, tilting close enough to brush her lips on his. Dante sucks in a breath as his body sparks to life instantly, grabbing her hips to slow her for a moment before he gets completely hard and can’t think. 

But her fingers teasing his hair and her lips dancing along his jaw makes it hard enough already. “Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I just…”

He doesn’t know how to continue, but just then Lir pulls her nightgown off over her head and tosses it away. Dante’s eyes bulge when he sees he was right about nothing underneath, and his eyes dart downwards as she slides one hand down his stomach, a mischievous grin on her face. She tugs at the waistband of his shorts and he gives a huff. This is his dream, right? So he shouldn’t feel guilty. Not at all. Especially when she reaches inside and licks her lips, the guilt melting away as he sinks against the mattress with a groan.


	4. Puzzle Pieces

To say he’s surprised when he wakes up in the morning is an understatement. Who has a dream in a dream and wakes up still in the dream? Dante frowns as he opens his eyes to find himself in the same bed, same room, pressed against Lir. She is still sleeping, laying on her stomach and holding her pillow, her bare body warm and perfect against his chest.

He props himself up a bit on an elbow to think for a minute. She seems lovely and, if the night before is any indication, hot as hell. Of all the girls Dante had ever been with, he doesn’t ever remember it being sweet  _ and _ sexy  _ and _ passionate all at the same time. The women he met were either sweet but boring, or hot and crazy. Having a girlfriend or whatever was not high on the list of priorities.

The sheet has pulled a bit, revealing her back and a bit of her backside. Dante moves almost instinctually, and when he presses closely against her, he wonders if he’ll remember all this when he wakes up.

Unless this isn’t a dream? Lir shifts and rolls a bit, leaning against him with a sigh. Wait, what if it’s not? 

In the quiet, Dante runs through possibilities in his head. Once more he reviews the last things he remembers: namely, fighting with Nero in the warehouse. There was a demon they had to find, but then what? His brows draw together as he chastises himself.  _ Think, stupid. _ He remembers Nero yelling, and the swarm, and then he’s heading upstairs. In a hallway?

Shaking his head, Dante decides to leave that for now. Truth is, it didn’t matter  _ what _ happened to him. What matters is figuring out what is happening  _ now, _ and how to make it stop so he can get back to his life.

Lir shifts beside him and the last thought has him feeling confused as he looks down at her. Does he… want this to end? Isn’t this what he’s always wanted? 

_ I can grant you a fortune that has nothing to do with money. _

Like a key in a lock, suddenly it all clicks. There was that demon, he remembers now. Dante shifts to sit up a bit, rubbing his hand on his face. It was breeding and it tried to bribe him… His eyes go wide as bits come back, like puzzle pieces that are too bent to fit perfectly. It offered him money and he told it that he didn’t want to be a devil hunter. Could that thing have done  _ this? _

An uncomfortable burn fills his throat as Dante swallows thickly. That demon created this, brought his entire family back, but how? His eyes dart around the room, his body and mind suddenly alert, as if the answer will jump out and bite him. The more he experiences of this place and the more vivid things get, the clearer it becomes that this isn’t some dream he’s having. Maybe this is some kind of illusion, and he’s laying at the bottom of the warehouse with his brains getting munched on by demons, blissfully unaware anything’s wrong. Maybe he’s in someone else’s body, living their life, sleeping with their wife? But they all call him Dante, and that was for sure his own parents and brother at dinner. Can’t be time travel, since none of this happened, and it’s the same date that it would have been back in his own timeline. 

Maybe he died? This could be heaven. Dante snorts and lays back on the pillows. Didn’t know devils could go to heaven.

“Everything okay?” Lir’s voice is sleepy as she shifts towards him, and he puts his arm around her when her head rests on his chest.

“Yeah,” Dante sighs. “Just wondering if this is heaven.”

She chuckles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I know I’m good but I’m not  _ that _ good.” She climbs over him again, and Dante’s chest gets tight when his eyes drag down. Now that the sun is up and the room is bright he can see just how gorgeous she is. His hands go to her hips and he wonders if they’re gonna have a round two, but she places a kiss on the corner of his mouth before moving away. “So nice to sleep in for once,” she sighs, heading into the bathroom.

“Yeah,” he says after her, but then remembers he sleeps in every day.

After throwing on some sweatpants and a t-shirt Dante heads downstairs to find breakfast. He wonders if  _ this _ Dante cooks up eggs and pancakes in the morning, since  _ his _ Dante usually has some leftover pizza crust and two glasses of whiskey. He decides to compromise and puts a bagel in the toaster, and by the time it pops Lir has joined him in the kitchen to brew coffee and sit down with an orange at the table. 

It’s still confusing as hell what he’s doing here: he’s not dreaming, it’s not time travel, he’s not someone else, so maybe… this really  _ is _ real? What if all that other stuff, with his parents dying and living on the streets, and the Temen-ni-gru and Mallet Island and the Order, what if  _ that _ was the dream? But that doesn’t make sense either, and Dante rubs his face in frustration. 

There are other things that don’t make sense too, like why Nero is the wrong age and why his wife was so surprised he owned a gun. Doesn’t she know he is a demon hunter? Does she even know he’s half-demon? Dante glances around as if someone might be watching. It’s time to test this place and see what happens, he decides. There must be a reason why he’s here. And if it’s some bad guy doing bad things, he’s going to get to the bottom of it.

Dante carries his food to join her and sits down a bit nervously. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

Lir eyes him curiously. “Yeah? Everything okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Is telling her this going to make the whatever-this-is implode? Only one way to find out. “This isn’t real, right? You know that?”

“Huh?”

Dante gestures around the kitchen. “All this. You a plant?”

“A what?”

“Are you a bug or something?”

“Dante…” Lir frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He eyes her suspiciously, every sense on high alert, waiting for her to react. It’s possible she is a demon in this weird reality, and once revealed will attack. It occurs to him then that would mean he was balls deep in a demon twice last night, and decides to put that aside to throw up about later. “Do you remember the warehouse?”

“What warehouse?” she sighs.

“Okay, what about Nero? The guy with the white hair?”

Lir rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know who Nero is. What is your point?”

Dante presses his lips together. Maybe she’s not a demon? What if she’s something else? “Want to go to dinner again tonight?” he asks.

“We just went out last night,” she laughs.

“Yeah, so what? We can afford it.”

Lir shakes her head. “I really just want to hang out at home today. Why don’t we just order a pizza and watch a movie or something?”

Dante folds his arms. “Order a pizza?”

“Yeah?”

He narrows his eyes as she pops another slice of orange into her mouth. “Extra olives, right?”

She glances over at him with a strange expression as she swallows. “I thought you hated them?”

“Just testing.” She gives him a weary look and picks up her coffee as Dante studies her. Whoever she is, she’s a tough one to crack. “Say, Lir, do you remember how we met?”

“Of course I do,” she chuckles.

Dante lifts his eyebrows, feeling like a detective in a mystery novel. “Describe what happened.”

Lir gives a huff, clearly annoyed. “What is with you?”

“I want to see if you remember,” he replies.

“Of course I remember,” she protests.

“Then prove it.”

She sighs with a roll of her eyes. “Fine. I came into your shop looking for help. Do  _ you _ remember?”

Huh, that’s an interesting bit of information. So she  _ does _ know he is a demon hunter, but was surprised he uses weapons? Suspicious now, he taps his chin. “So you came into the shop, huh? And what was I doing?”

Lir shakes her head. “I don’t know. Fixing something probably.”

“Fixing something? Like what?”

She frowns for a moment before answering, “Wait, I think I actually remember. It was an Iron 883.” Dante’s eyes go wide as she smiles. “Yeah, I do remember because I remember wondering if you would fit on it.”

Lir laughs as he leans forward. “I was working on a bike?” he exclaims.

“Well yeah, what else would you be doing in the shop? Baking cookies?” She chuckles at her joke. “God damn, you annoyed me so much that day. I just needed a charge but you insisted on checking everything. I told you three times I knew which wire had to be replaced and just needed to get to the weekend to do it but you wanted to take the whole bike apart.” Lir smiles at him flirtatiously. “I think you were just trying to keep me there.”

Dante gapes at her. “I fix bikes?  _ That’s _ the shop?”

She studies him for a moment and tilts her head. “Dante, you’ve been acting strangely the past two days. Did something happen? Are you feeling okay? You’re worrying me.”

He blinks in response, still processing. Family alive, money in the bank, hot wife, and now a dream job? This place really is too good to be true, but he just shakes his head. “Nah, I was just seeing if you remembered. Of course I’m good.”

Lir hesitates a moment before changing the subject, and Dante nods along, listening as she talks about getting the laundry started and even agreeing to mow the lawn. She pats his arm before disappearing upstairs, and Dante heads out back to find the mower, turning over everything again in his mind.

It starts right up and he walks in neat rows over the lawn—his lawn— _ their _ lawn—debating if he should do anything about this. So he's not a devil hunter… does that mean there are no demons? No wonder they were all so surprised to hear he had a gun. Dante is all at once very aware of missing Ebony and Ivory, and for a crazy moment wonders if he could look up old Nell and ask a favor. But what would he even need them for?

If he is dying, this is a pretty good way to go, right? It’s a lot better than getting snapped in half or set on fire or impaled or sent through a grinder. He presses his lips together as he remembers Vergil driving his father’s sword through him. Hell of a lot better.

Mowing is actually not too bad, and he enjoys the physical work to help him think. He had never pictured himself the kind of guy who likes a nice lawn, but he’s got to admit it’s damn satisfying to see it all done. As he stashes the mower away in the garage, he thinks he wouldn’t mind this life at all… but Dante decides in the end he’s not quite ready to just accept this new reality, at least not before finding out everything he can about where he is now.

Back inside, he heads up to the office and turns on the computer. Dante grabs a tablet of paper from the drawer and a pen. He writes  _ Red Grave  _ →  _ Temen-ni-gru _ , then underneath,  _ Fortuna → the Order _ . After a moment’s hesitation, he also writes  _ Dumary Island, _ and below that,  _ Mallet Island. _

Dante opens a search engine and starts typing. Red Grave City is obviously much different, he could tell from the car ride yesterday, and Dante assumes it’s because it’s not teeming with demons. After all, if the Temen-ni-gru never erupted in town, then there’s no reason for them to be there. He scans the headlines of the local papers for good measure but it’s just as he suspected: no weird deaths, no missing people, just some news about the school board vote and…

He stops short and gapes at the screen. The mayor is on the front page, giving a press conference about some tax on cigarettes, and Dante almost pinches himself when he realizes it’s  _ Morrison. _ “Well damn,” he snorts. Looks like everyone’s doing better in this crazy place.

Next he types Fortuna in the search bar, bracing himself for what he finds. But there’s nothing. No talk of destruction, no reconstruction efforts, no memorials for the dead. Dante does some searching for the Order, a bit surprised to find that they  _ do _ exist, but not nearly as powerful as they were when he was in Fortuna. It seems that they are like any other religious group, and he taps his finger on the desk in thought as he reads a profile on the Order on a travel website.

So Red Grave City never got overrun by devils, and Fortuna never got destroyed by the Savior. His parents didn’t die, which means Vergil would not raise the tower of power. No tower, no falling into hell. No hell, no losing Yamato, no getting found by the Order, no Savior. It makes sense really, and he sighs, realizing for the first time just how many people had been affected by demons coming to their home and killing his mother. He knew it had changed everything for him and Vergil, of course, but now there’s countless other families out there who suffered because of Mundus. Well, there  _ were, _ anyway.

Just one last question is bugging him, and he picks up the phone on the desk. Dante frowns as he dials a number he had memorized years ago, and the line crackles a bit before it connects.

On the fourth ring an elderly woman picks up the phone. “Hello?” she says, her voice kind but curious.

“Matier?” he says, his mouth going wide in a smile. “Is that really you?”

“Who is this?”

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, you probably don’t remember me. We met years and years ago. My name is Dante, and I’m a friend of Lucia’s.”

“Lucia who?”

Dante lets go a deep sigh. He should have figured this would happen. “Sorry, maybe I got the name wrong. I guess you don’t have a daughter?”

“You got the wrong number.”

“Wait, can I ask one more thing?” The line stays connected and he hurries on, “Do you know the name Argosax? Are you still guarding it?”

There is a long pause, and then Matier asks, “Who did you say you were again?”

“Dante. You might know my father, Sparda—”

The line goes dead, and Dante presses the button a few times. He tries to call back, but there is just a busy signal, so he hangs up with a sigh. Yet there is no Lucia, which means no Arius, so Dante figures he can safely assume that Argosax is still sealed—and that means Mundus is as well. The world really is different.  _ Safe. _

Lir appears at the door and calls his name. “Vergil’s on the phone. He wants to know if you still want the boys tomorrow. And will you help me with something? I can’t reach the top of the cabinet.”

Dante looks at his list, and crosses out the places he had written. “Yeah, here I come,” he answers with a smile to himself.


	5. Dante Fucks Up

Dante grins when the door to the shop opens and his father enters, Nero and V following. He’s already had a great day: a good night’s sleep after pizza and a movie with Lir last night, and today he’s already changed an air filter on a bike and ordered a set of new tires for a customer. Running the repair shop is a lot like running the Devil May Cry, he has learned over the course of the morning, except less blood and killing and more money.

Vergil had texted that Sparda was bringing his nephews by, and as promised they arrive and come straight into the garage. “Hey there boys!” he says happily. “Hope you’re ready to work. I got a set of brakes to replace, and there’s a Harley that needs a new carburetor.” 

“Cool,” Nero says, and to his surprise, V looks interested too.

“We can help?” V asks.

“Sure,” Dante replies. “I’ll get the parts and then we’ll get to cleaning everything before putting the new brakes on.”

Sparda clears his throat. “Before you get started, can I speak with you?” he asks

Dante nods, and Nero says, “We can get the stuff together. Come on, V.”

The boys go into the back to the supply room, and Dante is a bit impressed they know what to do. “What’s up?” he asks. “Did you and mom have fun the other night?”

“Yes… but…” Sparda folds his arms. “Did you uh… make any phone calls yesterday, Dante?”

They stare at one another, and Dante shakes himself, remembering his father is waiting for an answer. He has a darn good guess what Sparda is hinting at, so he rubs the back of his head and says, “Uh, maybe? Why?”

Sparda looks around, as if to see if anyone is listening. But there’s no one there but the two of them, so he tilts his head in and says quietly, “An old friend of mine called me last night. Said she received a call from Dante, son of Sparda. Now I don’t know how you got her phone number, but…” Dante frowns as Sparda looks uncertain. “Well, let’s just say it was a shock. I had not expected to hear that name again.”

“You mean Matier?” he asks. “Why not? She’s cool.”

His father looks at him in surprise. “So you’ve  _ met _ her?”

“Um…” Dante shifts uncomfortably. “Kind of? It’s hard to explain.”

Sparda’s eyes narrow, examining him closely, and suddenly he feels like he is six years old and trying to convince him that he didn’t break the lamp in the front room. “How do you know Matier?”

He decides to take a chance and give some truth. “What would you say if I told you I’ve been to Dumary?”

“Impossible,” Sparda hisses. “How would you have gone there? When?”

Dante shakes his head. “I can explain. I think?”

“Yes, you’ll explain.” Sparda’s voice goes sharp, scolding, and Dante frowns. Why is he so upset about this? “You’ll explain that, and more. Like Nevan? Have you been spying on me?”

“Spying? What, no!”

“Reading my journals?”

“No! Pop, what…” He studies his father, wondering what the big deal is, when it dawns on him: Sparda never told any of them anything. “Wait,” he says, leaning in closer. “Does Mom know?”

Sparda snaps back, his eyes open in alarm. “Enough of this,” he says. “Come over tonight. We need to discuss this.” His eyes dart to the back room, where they can hear the boys chattering. “You’re going to tell me everything you know, and how you know it, understand?”

The tone of his voice gets under his skin. It’s not as if  _ Dante _ did anything wrong, and he huffs with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll come over. And you’re gonna do some explaining too, got it?”

Sparda mutters something under his breath as he turns on his heel and stalks out of the shop. “Uncle Dante!” V calls. “Nero mixed up all the lug nuts!”

“I did not!”

He sighs as the door shuts with a slam. “Stop touching shit,” he calls, turning his attention to his nephews.

After they get the lug nuts resorted, he hustles the boys out of the storage room to get started. They sit as he starts taking things apart, Nero handing him tools as V takes and sorts the parts Dante hands him. They actually work together pretty well, which surprises him. Nero is all energy, talking every chance he gets to fidget, even looping the tools through his fingers before handing them over. Meanwhile V is quieter, methodical, even huffing over the mess when Nero accidentally kicks the neat rows of parts askew. Dante just chuckles to himself, thinking that they remind him of himself and Vergil. But maybe that’s the point?

Before long he hands over the pieces for them to clean while he goes to his office to grab some drinks. With three sodas in hand, he hands them out before cracking open his own, leaning on the reception desk as he watches. “How come you guys don’t have school today?” he asks.

“It’s summer,” V says, and they both laugh.

“Right.” Dante thinks as he takes a sip. Maybe these two can answer some questions, especially if this is all a made-up place? Best to do this subtly, he decides, thinking about how Lir had grown suspicious of his questions. “So your parents. What’s up with them?”

Nero and V glance at one another. “Huh?”

“What are they like? Gotta be weird having  _ them _ as parents, hm?”

Nero laughs. “Why is that weird?”

“Well, you know, because Vergil is… I mean, your mom is…” Dante frowns, realizing he has no idea what they do, and guesses it’s got nothing to do with demon hunting. “They uh… happy?”

Nero makes a face but V frowns. “Why are you asking? What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing. I mean…”

“Are they getting a divorce?” Nero asks, his voice going tight.

“No! At least, I don’t think so…” Dante makes an aggravated noise in his throat and rubs his face. “No, I was just asking. Everything’s fine.”

Neither looks convinced, so Dante tries a new tactic. “Hey Nero, got any girlfriends?”

He turns bright red as V laughs. “He wishes!” V exclaims. “There is this one girl—”

“No there’s  _ not—” _

“And he spends all day and all night—”

“I do  _ not!!” _

“Just going oh, oh, I love her so much!” V mimics him with a sad, dramatic voice. “I’ll never be good enough for her, boo hoo—”

“Cut it out!” Nero shouts, aiming a kick at V that he easily dodges.

Dante just laughs. “Okay, lay off. This girl got you bad, hm, Nero? But I bet Kyrie likes you just fine.”

Nero stops glaring at V long enough to give him a confused look. “Who’s Kyrie?”

“Isn’t that… nevermind.”

He finishes off his soda, wondering what else to talk about, when V asks, “Why so many questions?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” V repeats. “You never do.”

Dante huffs. “Yes I do. I’m very involved.”

They both laugh at that, and Dante tosses his soda can away as he grumbles, “Okay, enough out of you two. Go back to work or I ain’t paying you.”

“Like you have money,” V says, and both boys set off in another round of laughter. Dante makes a face and folds his arms, thinking how much he can’t stand kids. This is probably why he and Lir haven’t had any. Can’t catch a break, even in his own ideal world.

Vergil picks them up at five on the dot. They’ve managed to get the brake pads changed and bled, and Dante has them labelling inventory when he arrives. “Are they in one piece?” he asks as he approaches the desk.

Dante sits in his chair, his elbows on the desk and his chin in his hands. All afternoon he thought about his father and the look on his face when he mentioned Dalmary. It doesn’t make sense: if Sparda is still who he is, which he seems to be, then why hide it? Maybe the outside world didn’t know about the Legendary Knight living in their midst, but he had never kept it a secret from Eva, or from them. 

“Yeah… but Vergil, I need to ask you something,” he says.

Before they can continue Nero hops over. “Dad, Uncle Dante said you and mom were getting a divorce.”

Vergil shouts  _ “What?” _ just as Dante protests, “I did not!”

“He did, I heard him too,” V says with a smile.

“You brats,” mumbles Dante.

Vergil looks ready to kill as he glares at him. “Why would you say something like that?”

“I said I didn’t!” Dante insists. “I was just asking how you guys were. Like if you were…” He swallows thickly, dreading Vergil’s reaction. “Happy.”

His brother narrows his eyes. “What game is this?”

“Huh?”

“First you wanted me to come over to talk,” Vergil says. “Now you’re asking about if I’m happy? What’s going on?”

His first instinct is to deny, but then he decides against it. “Something is, but…” He side-eyes the twins, who are watching expectantly. “I’m going over to see Dad tonight. Can you come with me? Please?”

Vergil presses his lips together into a thin line. “What does this have to do with him?”

“I can’t exactly tell you  _ now,” _ he hisses.

Luckily Vergil gets his meaning and nods. But Nero and V immediately protest, “No! We want to know too!”

“Go get in the car,” Vergil orders.

With some grumbling Nero heads out, V following behind. But before they head out the door V turns and says, “Hey Uncle Dante? Everyone’s happy, you know. You should be too.”

Dante frowns. That’s a weird thing for a kid to say, isn’t it?

Vergil sighs when they are gone. “Now tell me what this is about.”

“Dad has been…” Dante rubs the back of his neck. “Keeping secrets, I guess? But you should hear it from him.”

“What kind of secrets?” asks Vergil suspiciously.

“Like I said, hear it from him.” Dante picks up his keys, moving to shut off the lights in the shop. “Meet me there at eight, okay?”

Vergil agrees, but reluctantly, and when he’s gone Dante takes a walk through the shop to make sure everything is turned off before he locks up. On the way home, he wonders if his suspicions are correct, and Sparda has kept the truth a secret. And what will Vergil do when he finds out?

He can’t shake the feeling of unease when he gets home, where Lir is putting chicken in the oven. “How was your day?” she asks cheerily when he moves to wash his hands.

“Fine.”

Dante grabs a kitchen towel to dry them when she moves closer and rubs his arm. “Hey, are you okay? Were the kids too much?”

“No, they were fine.” He glances at Lir and says, “I need to run over to my parents’ tonight. Dad wants to show me and Vergil something.”

“Okay.” 

Dante goes to move away, but Lir stretches up to slide her arms around his neck. Dante chuckles to himself at how short she is, and when she smiles and nudges him closer, his hands go to her waist as he follows her pull. She kisses him sweetly, tugging on his lower lip a bit, and in spite of himself he responds, giving her a teasing bite that has her lips curling into a smile against his. They linger like this for another moment, and Dante refuses to feel badly about it. She might not be real, but it’s nice to have someone to take care of him, and he never realized how much he likes the simple affection. It’s something he hasn’t had since he was a kid, and Dante is almost sorry when Lir eases back to return to making dinner.

She launches into a story about water damage in the storage room and some missing labels, which he only half listens to as he sits and watches her cook. Really he uses the time to debate if digging into all this is really worth it. Dante had read the paper that morning, picking it up on his way into the shop. There was nothing in the news that would indicate a demon attack; everything was normal human crime and chaos, so he had to assume that demons didn’t exist in this place. But if there were no demons, then how was  _ he _ here?

“He did what?” Lir’s voice pulls him from his thoughts, and when he looks up, she is giving him a funny look as she talks on her cell phone. “I have no idea,” she laughs, turning back to stir the vegetables on the stovetop.

She hangs up a minute later, setting something on the stove before walking over to him. “Did you really tell the boys that Vergil and Mary are getting divorced?” she laughs.

“No,” he sighs. “They took it all wrong.”

“Well what did you say?”

Dante shrugs. “I just asked if they were happy.”

Lir gives him another strange look before taking the seat next to his at the little kitchen table. “Why would you ask that?”

“I guess I was curious,” he replies.

“Dante.” Lir sucks in a deep breath before she leans forward, resting her elbow on the table. “You’ve been so different lately. Acting like… I don’t know. Like you aren’t you, somehow. Is something wrong?”

He opens his mouth to assure her that he’s fine, but hesitates. “I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

“Okay.” Lir’s brows draw in as she thinks. “When do you feel like it started?”

“Two days ago,” he replies. “The day of the dinner for my uh, parents.”

“That’s specific,” she chuckles. “Did anything happen to make you feel this way?”

He considers telling her the truth: he fought a demon that granted him a wish and sent him to this weird reality. Would Lir even believe him? Does he even believe it? “It’s hard to explain,” he says.

Lir considers that for a moment before asking, “I guess the important question is, are you happy?”

“What?”

She shrugs. “Simple enough question. Are you happy? Or do you feel like you need something else?”

Dante studies her for a moment. “No,” he answers finally. “I like it enough here.”

“Like it  _ enough?” _ Lir looks hurt, and that makes him feel bad. And confused, too, because she’s a demon, right? Or made up by a demon. Either way, he shouldn’t  _ care _ about what she thinks, even though he does.

“That’s not what I meant,” he hurries on.

For a second he’s worried she’s going to cry: a woman crying was never something he handles well. But instead she stands and moves to sit on his lap. Immediately his arms go around her waist as she strokes his cheek, and Dante has to admit it feels nice. “I love you,” Lir murmurs. Then she tilts his face up to look at her, and he can see the real concern in her eyes. “More than anything.”

His heart is beating loudly in his chest as he swallows thickly. Dante thinks of them in bed together, when she was the perfect combination of sweet and sexy. He had thought this was a dream then, and maybe it is… but does he want to wake up?

“I love you too,” he replies, the words feeling both right and wrong.

“Good.” Something beeps on the stove and Lir looks over. “Why don’t you go get changed out of those dirty clothes while I finish getting everything ready?”

Dante mutters an agreement and heads upstairs, the uneasy feeling following him. Until now, he had been trying to figure out what was going on, and find a way back. But now he thinks: should he even be looking for answers at this point?

_ There’s got to be  _ something _ you’d rather be doing than this. _

He splashes some water on his face and looks in the mirror. Why is he trying to figure this out? Here he has Vergil, and his parents, and Nero. And Lir… he has to admit, he is growing a soft spot for her. If he finds a way back, it’s just back to debt and demons and being alone.

“Fine,” he decides, giving himself a stern look. “I’ll just stay for now. See what happens.”

A clatter startles him, and when he looks down, the damn cat has jumped on the counter, sending Lir’s makeup and the soap everywhere. “Shoo,” he says, swatting at the feline, but it just sits and looks at him.

Dante huffs. “You I could do without.” The cat blinks at him and he shakes his head. “Figures something would be a pain in my ass. Guess this place isn’t perfect, hm?”

“Humans are too fickle. If it was perfect, you wouldn’t be happy,” the cat replies.

He jumps, staring at the cat with wide eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

But the cat doesn’t answer, just licks its paw, as Dante’s heart pounds loudly in his chest.


	6. Sparda Fucks Up

Dante tries to keep a grip as he pulls up outside his parents’ house. He turns off the car and just stares out the window from the driveway, his pulse racing as he takes in the familiar sight.

He had snuck into the office and found their address in a book on the desk, and when he read the street it seemed familiar. Never in his wildest dreams would he imagine they  _ still _ lived here, in his childhood home. The home where he and Vergil had fought countless times, where his mother had read them stories and kissed his forehead, where his father had called them into his study to tell them very seriously he had important gifts for them both. The home that had burned down around him as his mother was torn apart and his brother was killed outside.

Dante shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking as he heads up the steps to the front door. It takes him almost a full minute to get the courage to ring the doorbell, and when Eva answers the door, she laughs. “Why did you ring? You know you can just come in,” she says, tugging him inside by the elbow.

He leans down to let her kiss his cheek as he looks around. The foyer is the same, and dozens of memories come surfacing up, things he had forgotten: the umbrella stand in the corner, the carved post at the bottom of the railing that ran along the staircase, the Renaissance-style painting hanging on the wall with naked nymphs dancing, which had made him and Vergil laugh until they were sick.

“Is Dad here?” he asks, blinking away the memories.

“Yes, but before you see him I want to know what’s going on.” Eva folds her arms and gives him a pointed look, and even though he has at least a half a foot on her, Dante feels pinned by her gaze. “He came home all upset today. What happened?”

Dante shakes his head. “I don’t know. He thinks I did something wrong.”

“Did you?”

“No! I said I didn’t.” All of a sudden he is seven years old again, insisting he didn’t spill milk on the kitchen floor when they both know he absolutely did. “I’m not lying,” Dante says. “I want to know what he’s up to too.”

Eva’s look goes sharp. “Your father isn’t up to something. He wouldn’t do that.” She looks around for a moment before lowering her voice and murmuring, “He’s not as young as he once was. I worry about him. Please don’t aggravate him, promise?”

That’s going to be hard as hell, but Dante nods. “Yeah. Where is he?”

The walk through the house to his father’s study is harder than he had imagined. Dante had always thought if he could go back to the house, if it had somehow survived, he’d be glad to see all the old furniture and their things. But it’s more surreal than anything, and it makes him weirdly cautious.

He remembers the dining table, where his mother insisted they have dinner every Sunday, with the fancy napkins. Dante peeks into the parlor where a piano sits, something she had tried to get Dante to play but he was never very good at doing. He ventures inside to press a hand to the top, thinking of how she would sit next to him and say the names of the keys, as Vergil stood nearby practicing his violin until the strings went from screeching into a melody.

The study is down the hallway, past the great staircase. He looks up at the railing, smiling when he thinks how many times they slid down the bannister against his parents’ orders. Once, they went down together, but lost their balance and fell the distance, a good thirteen or fourteen feet at least, bones breaking as they landed on the hardwood floors below. Vergil’s nose had gone crooked while Dante had shattered his forearm, and they had been fascinated by each other’s injuries until their mother’s scream interrupted their hilariously gruesome examination. But they had healed within the hour, both boys sitting at the kitchen table with ice packs that weren’t necessary but kept their mother appeased for the moment.

He rubs his arm with the memory, thinking of how much it hurt, and how thrilling it had been to know they were about to be in so much trouble. It had looked so cool too, his bone poking through his skin, watching it slowly heal with Vergil as they ate milk and cookies and his skin turned from black to purple to yellow to pink.

Outside the door to his father’s study, Dante hesitates once again. He remembers standing outside of the same door with Vergil, barely six years old. They had a whispered argument outside, accusing one another of some wrongdoing that would cause their father to summon them both. Neither knew why Sparda had told them pointedly to report after clearing the table from dinner, and when the door had swung open just as their fight was about to turn ugly he had scared them both.

That day, his father had brought them inside and sat them down and told them about their legacy. He explained why they never had broken bones and why cuts and scrapes and bruises healed immediately. He explained why they lived so far away from the other children in town and what he had done to keep them safe. Finally, Sparda had explained that one day demons might come, and he had gifts for them both in case that happened.

His mother had said he didn’t have to knock, so unlike last time he opens the door and strides inside. Sparda is lifting a glass of some dark liquid to his lips, and he splutters when Dante enters. “Do you knock?” he yelps, putting down the drink.

“You sure you’re allowed to have that?” Dante says dryly as he shuts the door.

“What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Sparda replies, stowing the glass and the bottle in a cabinet.

Sparda gestures for Dante to sit, but he folds his arms. “Cut the shit, Dad,” he says, and his father’s eyes go wide. “What is going on?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Sparda hisses. “You’re keeping secrets, Dante.”

“Me? I’m not the one who hasn’t told Mom about Matier—”

Sparda hushes him loudly, waving his hands and looking at the door. “Would you not talk so loud! You know your mother has the hearing of a hawk. And I don’t want her asking questions.” He scowls furiously. “I don’t know what you think you know, but you don’t know anything. So don’t act like you know something which you know nothing about!”

Dante would laugh if it all wasn’t so ridiculous; instead, he sighs. “Dad, I know  _ everything.” _

Immediately Sparda sucks in a breath, working his jaw furiously. “What is there to know?” His father finally huffs. “I’m a perfectly ordinary human man, and I won’t listen to nonsense.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dante groans. “Come on, Pop. I know who you are. I know about the demons.”

Sparda’s eyes go so wide Dante wonders if they will fall out. Then his father comes very close, peering at him as he whispers harshly, “Who told you?”

“What do you mean?” Dante protests. “You did.”

His father grabs him by the collar. “I did no such thing!”

“You did! You… oh.” Dante shakes his head as he pushes his father off. “You didn’t tell us, did you? Never gave us the swords either, I guess?”

Sparda goes into another round of sputtering protests, but fed up completely now, Dante simply pushes past him. He walks over to a cabinet pushed up against the wall, and with one swift movement Dante grabs the top and yanks it off, revealing a false bottom. Sparda cries out in alarm but he ignores him, reaching in and pulling out Rebellion. He holds it up in the light, his grip adjusting around the sword as it has thousands of times before, a familiar and comforting weight in his hands. “Guess this was the truth at least,” Dante mumbles.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sparda grabs the sword from him and tries to yank it away, but Dante holds it firmly. “That isn’t yours! It’s not a toy!”

“I know it’s not a toy, but you—oh forget it.” 

He releases Rebellion so his father can snatch it up. Quickly Sparda stores it away, pressing his hands to the edge of the cabinet to steady himself for a moment. “You will explain yourself,” he says, his voice quiet and cold.

“You’re the one that needs to explain,” Dante snaps. “Why didn’t you tell Mom?”

“Tell her what? That I’m a demon? That I was a brother in blood to the king?” Sparda laughs as he rounds on him. “Can you imagine what she would say?”

“I think she’d be fine with it, actually,” replies Dante. 

Sparda shakes his head. “No. I could never tell her. Besides, it would be too dangerous. The less she knows, the better.”

“What happens if demons show up?” Dante argues. “She wouldn’t know what to do!”

His father looks at him in confusion. “Why would demons come here? There hasn’t been a demon spotted in over three thousand years.”

Dante looks away. So that confirms that much—no devils, no devil hunting. “You have to tell her,” he says.

“No. I never wanted her to know. I never wanted you kids to know.”

“How did you even keep it a secret this long?” he laughs. “You don’t age.”

Dante remembers Eva’s warning at the front door as Sparda shrugs. “Magic helps,” he replies.

“Didn’t Mom ever wonder why we never got hurt, never got sick?”

Sparda shakes his head. “You were perfectly normal children.”

“Uh, we were not normal.”

“You both got hurt, you both got illnesses. The way you boys played, you were always injured. Probably a dozen broken bones each, no telling how many scars.” Sparda gives him a sharp look. “You’re not remembering things properly.”

“No, we…” 

A terrible thought strikes him and Dante yanks up the sleeve of his jacket. He looks closely at his forearm, and sure enough, there is no scar where his bone had broken all those years ago. He had healed perfectly, the blood and bruises gone well before his father had gotten home to punish them. Never once in his life had he received any scars from any of his injuries. 

“I never told you,” Sparda says, “because there was no need for you to know.”

Dante yanks the sleeve back in place. “But it’s a lie, Dad,” he says firmly. “How can you lie to her every day?”

Sparda makes a sour face. “Have you told Lir?”

Taken aback, Dante shakes his head, and Sparda gives a humorless laugh. “Exactly. You love her, and you wouldn’t want her to know. You are hiding the truth from her just as I am hiding it from Eva. We do what we must to protect those that we love.”

“But it’s different,” he insists. 

“How?”

Dante opens his mouth to respond, but then quickly closes it. He supposes he  _ should _ tell Lir, but what if she is a part of this, and isn’t real? What is real anymore? And it’s not the same, because he doesn’t love her, not the way his parents loved each other. Right? “I didn’t know until recently,” he says, deciding it’s true enough. 

“How did you find out?” Sparda demands.

Dante heaves a sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There are voices in the hall, and both men turn and look at the door. “That’ll be Vergil,” Dante says. He stands and points to his father, who has gone pale. “Now you’re going to tell him the truth, then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“No.” Sparda swallows and shakes his head. “No, I won’t. I won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Dante demands. “It’s best if we all just get everything out. And you’re telling Mom!”

“Telling Mom what?” Vergil asks as he enters.

Dante looks at his father, who glares back. “Fine, if you won’t I will.”

“No, Dante—”

“Dad’s a demon,” he says.

They both look at Vergil for his reaction. He blinks at Dante as they stare at one another in silence, and then Vergil says, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Dad is a demon,” Dante repeats.

Vergil makes a face of disgust. “Is that some kind of bedroom thing? I’m not interested.”

“No! It’s…” Dante looks at Sparda for help, who only raises his eyebrows. “He is a demon. From hell. Like the devil. You know?” 

He puts his fingers up over his head like little devil horns and hisses. Vergil turns to Sparda and asks, “How much have you had to drink?”

“I’m sorry, Vergil. It’s time I told you the truth.” Dante nods as Sparda folds his hands, taking a deep breath. “Your brother is deeply disturbed. We need to have him committed.”

“What?” the twins say together.

“It’s true. He’s been in here raging about demons and I—”

With a growl Dante stalks to the cabinet, taking out the two swords and holding them up. Vergil jumps a mile but Dante only says angrily, “So how do you explain this? Hm?”

“What even is that?” Vergil asks incredulously. He looks at Sparda in utter confusion. “Are you collecting weapons?”

“They’re supposed to be for us,” Dante says. He tosses Yamato at Vergil, who catches it easily with one hand, gazing at it in a horrified sort of awe. “That’s Yamato. Mine is Rebellion.”

He points Rebellion at his father, who gives him a dark glare. “He was supposed to tell us this years ago. Supposed to give us these to protect ourselves and our family. So how about it, Dad? Tell Vergil the truth.”

Vergil tears his eyes away from Yamato as they dart between Dante and Sparda. “What is going on?” he asks, his voice low. 

Sparda’s scowl is probably enough to kill a man, and would have sent Dante running when he was a child. But he only glares back, waiting. “Dad?” he prompts.

He lifts his chin. “There is nothing to tell, Vergil,” he says. “Kindly replace my sword where it belongs.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Dante takes two steps forward and uses Rebellion to run his father through. The sword slices his chest easily as it comes out the other side, Sparda choking in surprise as he reaches out to steady himself. Blood spurts from his mouth as Dante pulls out the sword and Vergil gives a horrified shout, jumping forward.

“Dante!” Sparda coughs, not in pain but in anger. 

He falls to the ground, pressing a hand to his chest. Vergil is at his side in an instant, looking around in a panic. “Call an ambulance!” he yells.

“He’s fine,” Dante says. “Show him. Dad, show him!”

“You’re insane!” Vergil shouts. 

He launches himself at Dante, and they go over the leather chair, crashing to the floor together with Vergil on top. It’s all Dante can do to block his fists, and Vergil manages to land a punch or two before he can buck him off. “Stop!” cries Dante. “He’s fucking fine! Look!”

Vergil spins, and his mouth falls open in shock as Sparda climbs to his feet. “Dad?” he says, his voice suddenly small, and when Sparda smooths his hand over where the hole in his body  _ used _ to be, Vergil whimpers and scurries backwards, bumping into Dante.

His father’s mouth presses together in an angry scowl, but Dante glares back. “Tell the truth,” he hisses. “Vergil deserves to know.”

“Dad?” Vergil says again.

Sparda takes several deep breaths, the air between them sharp with tension. “You still haven’t told me how you knew,” he says darkly.

Dante growls in aggravation and pulls his sleeve up, holding up his arm. “See this? No scars. I broke my arm falling off the railing. You said I got hurt, but I didn’t, Dad.” 

Sparda frowns and steps forward, examining his arm closely. “No, that’s not true. You had a huge scar here, and your Mother… she was so upset…”

“No,” Dante says again. “No injuries. No scars. No chicken pox, no colds, none of that shit.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not your Dante. Or you’re not my Sparda, I don’t know. You were all dead. Mundus killed you all.”

His father steps back, as if Dante had slapped him. “That’s what happened where I’m from. I was fighting a demon and it—it did something, and now I’m here.” He searches his father’s face pleadingly. “But I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. And you need to tell the truth. It’s dangerous for them not to know.”

A heavy silence falls in the room that is broken moments later by Vergil. “What do you mean, you’re not Dante?”

His voice cracks a bit, and Dante feels suddenly, terribly guilty. He turns to his brother, and Vergil looks at him with eyes full of fear. “It’s okay,” Dante says. “I’ll explain everything—”

He is cut off with the sound of glass shattering, and they both swing back to find Sparda gone. The window is broken, the curtain waving with a breeze, the only sound their heavy breathing as they stare at the spot where their father had just stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a break from publishing next week because of the Thanksgiving holiday here in the US. See you the week after for more! Thanks for reading as always.


	7. Vergil Powers Up

They are on the highway still when Vergil says, “Pull over.”

Dante glances to the left, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “No can do, brother. The exit is coming up and—”

“Pull  _ over, _ I’m going to be sick.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Dante does as he says, pulling into the emergency lane and flipping on the hazard lights. Vergil stumbles out of the car and takes a few steps away, leaning over to press his hands to his knees. Dante can see him with the glow from the overhead light, and he tries not to look, wondering if he should go out there. But he figures Vergil would want some privacy, so he waits patiently until he returns to the car and sinks into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.

“Take me home,” Vergil says.

“We need to find Dad,” Dante replies.

There’s surprisingly no argument, so after a moment Dante glances over. “I have an idea or two where to look. I just want to stop at my shop and pick up a couple of things. Okay?”

Vergil rubs his finger on his upper lip before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.”

Dante continues driving, grateful the traffic is light. They make it back to the city in no time, but as he heads through downtown Vergil says again, “No. Wait. What am I doing? Stop!”

“We can’t stop,” Dante mutters.

“Let me out of this car, Dante!” Vergil shouts.

The next traffic light turns yellow, and he slows to a stop at the intersection. “What’s the plan, Verge?” he argues. “Gonna just throw up all night and hope he comes back? Dad is out there doing god-knows-what, and I can’t do this by myself.”

Vergil groans and presses his palm to his face. “You stabbed him, Dante, you fucking stabbed him! Why the fuck would you do that? Why—how would you know he would—what the fuck—”

Dante winces as Vergil’s breathing goes heavy, and for a moment he’s scared Vergil is going to lose it. It’s a weird feeling. The last time he saw Vergil in the flesh, he was cold, almost disconnected in the Temen-ni-gru. Even here in this place he seems put together, cool-headed, and thinking back, Dante can’t ever remember a time when Vergil just lost his shit.

“What you need is a drink,” he says.

He turns down a street and pulls up in front of the first bar he finds. Dante climbs out of the car and walks around to the side, opening the passenger door. “Come on,” he says.

“No, no I can’t—I have to—Mary is—”

Dante reaches inside and pulls him out, and luckily Vergil doesn’t fight him. He is clutching the Yamato, but Dante decides against trying to pry it away, instead pushing him towards the tavern and through the entrance. 

Inside it is thankfully empty, just a couple of drunks at the counter and a waitress rolling silverware at a table. They take a booth in the back, and under the light dangling over the table, Dante can see that Vergil is pale. He feels guilty, but there’s nothing to be done about that now, and when the waitress steps up a few seconds later he orders them both a shot of Jack Daniels and a beer.

“Okay,” Dante says once she is out of earshot. “I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”

Vergil looks up to meet his eyes, his face a bit drawn. “Tell me,” he says through gritted teeth.

Suddenly Dante is nervous. They had left the house in a hurry, Dante pushing Vergil in front of him as Eva came hurrying down the steps to see after the commotion. He had told her they argued and that Sparda had taken off and they were going to get him, and then Dante had practically dragged Vergil to the car. If she noticed the weapons they carried she didn’t say anything, just watched them from the door as he had pulled away and tried to scrape together a plan as Vergil sat in shocked silence beside him for most of the ride.

“Okay,” Dante repeats. “So, Dad is a demon. I think you got that much.”

“What the hell does that  _ mean?” _ Vergil hisses.

“He’s from… I don’t know, the Underworld. Hell.” Vergil scowls, making it clear he doesn’t believe him. “I’m not making this up. You saw the weapons. You saw him get up and heal.”

Vergil gazes at him suspiciously. “Demons aren’t real,” he says.

“Then explain what happened,” Dante challenges.

Vergil just shakes his head, so Dante continues, “He defeated the king of Hell a long time ago. About three thousand years, I think. Dad’s been on Earth since then, I don’t know, doing whatever.”

“Doing whatever?” Vergil deadpans.

Dante throws out his hands. “I don’t know! Dicking around I guess? Until he met Mom.”

Vergil’s jaw works for a moment before he bites out, “Keep going.”

“There are gates all over the world that connect our world to the demon one, and he sealed them up and makes sure they don’t open. Only…” His voice drifts off as he tries to think of a way to explain his own situation. “I don’t know, sometimes they don’t stay closed, and demons come out—”

Dante grimaces a bit when he sees Vergil’s expression. “You expect me to believe this?”

“I expect you to believe your own eyes,” he replies.

The waitress returns with their drinks, and she tilts her head at Vergil. “Keep that thing out of sight, will ya?” she says.

Vergil frowns before looking down, then starts as if he didn’t realize he was holding a sword. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I forgot.”

She snorts and walks away. Dante sets the a shot in front of them both, nudging him with his foot. “Here. Take this and I’ll keep talking.”

Shakily, Vergil nods, and together they drink the whiskey. Dante wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sighing as the liquid goes down nice and smooth before he nods to his brother. “That’s Yamato. It’s yours. Supposed to be, anyway.”

“Why?” he asks.

Dante shrugs. “I don’t know. Sparda gave me Rebellion and you Yamato. Where I’m from, we got them as kids. They were his weapons that he used to take care of the demons.” He picks up his beer and takes a sip before pointing at the sword. “Yamato can open and close the seals. It’s quite a power you have there.”

Vergil lays Yamato on the table, his hands trembling a bit. “I don’t want this power,” he says.

A snort escapes Dante before he can stop it. “What?” Vergil snaps.

“Just funny is all. The you  _ I know _ only wants power.”

“You keep saying that.” Vergil eyes his suspiciously. “You said, ‘where I’m from’. What is that?”

Dante takes another sip. “Drink and I’ll tell you the rest.”

Vergil looks at him suspiciously, but he picks up the bottle and takes several swallows. Dante nods as he sets it down and says, “Okay. Don’t freak out, Verge. I’m a demon hunter. I’ve been on my own since I was seven, when demons attacked our house.”

“What?”

“We were kids. Dad was gone, I don’t know where. It was just us and Mom for a while. Then one day they attacked. They…” He swallows and rubs his palms on his jeans, looking away so he doesn’t have to watch Vergil’s expression.. “They killed Mom. She hid me in a closet and went to go find you, and I… never saw her again.”

Vergil takes a moment to consider this. “Nothing you’re saying makes sense.”

“I know, but it’s the truth.” He plants his elbow on the table and points at himself. “I don’t fix bikes, I run a business where I kill demons. I was on a job when I met this one and it told me it would grant a wish.”

“A wish?”

“Yeah, like some fucked-up genie,” Dante chuckles. “It sent me here, where all of you were alive. And it’s great, I love seeing you guys again! I love having you back.” He takes a deep breath. “But things have been weird. I don’t think this place is gonna last long. And if there are demons still around, then you need to know the truth. Everyone does. Because if they come back…”

Vergil’s voice is cold as he asks, “What happened to me in your world?”

Dante takes a deep breath. How much should he reveal? It probably wouldn’t help things to tell the whole truth, so he decides to give the basics. “You died. When the demons came to our house and killed Mom, they killed you too. I thought they did, anyway. Turns out you were actually alive. But we didn’t see each other until we were grown up. I lived on the streets, and I guess you did too, getting helped by people along the way. But the demons never stopped coming. See, they hated Sparda, and Mundus—that’s the guy he sealed—wanted out. Some shit went down, and you ended up… well, let’s just say you weren’t the bag of fun you are now.”

Vergil makes a face so Dante quickly continues, “You raised this tower in the middle of Red Grave City and killed all these people and unleashed a shit ton of demons on the world that I had to fight. You tried to open up the gates to hell but some other shit went down with Mary’s father.” Suddenly he brightens. “Mary’s a demon hunter too, you know. She kicked your ass. She’s kicked mine too. We closed the gate but then us two fought and you…” 

Dante realizes he has done the  _ opposite _ of give the basics, so he clears his throat. “Anyway, you fell off the tower into the closing portal and went to hell. The end.” 

Vergil stares at him for a full minute, and Dante drains his beer, wondering what is happening. His brother is expressionless, and he swears he can almost hear him processing all that. “Uh, Verge?” he finally says. “You good?”

A slow smile breaks out over Vergil’s face and he begins to laugh. “Okay, you got me.” Dante frowns as Vergil shakes his head and chuckles. “I almost believed you. You’re pretty good at this.”

“I’m not lying.”

“And the blood? The sword? That was good.” Vergil laughs again and looks around. “Is Dad going to pop out now? He always liked a good trick but that was something else. Was Mom in on it too?”

“Vergil—”

“This has been fun, Dante, but I’m tired.” He stands up, still holding Yamato, and pulls his jacket closed. “I had a long day and I just want to go home. Are you driving or do I need to call a cab?”

Dante slides out of the booth. “Vergil, it’s true. It’s not a trick. I didn’t make it up.”

Vergil rolls his eyes. “Joke’s over. You can stop all this. It isn’t funny if you don’t give it up.”

“I’m not—It’s not a joke!” Dante grits his teeth as the humor slides from Vergil’s face. “Dad is a demon. We’re half demons. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I’m not  _ dead, _ you idiot,” Vergil hisses. 

“Vergil, just listen!” Dante reaches out and grabs his arm, which Vergil yanks away. “We gotta—”

“Don’t touch me. You’ve gone too far.” Vergil looks angry now, and Dante’s shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I have half a mind to call the police.”

“Vergil—”

“I said don’t touch me!” He gives Dante a shove as he reaches out again, and Dante stumbles back into the table. The glasses rattle as he rights himself, and the two brothers glare at one another. It’s familiar enough that it’s painful, as if a million other fights just like this in their history have been carefully set on a path to this moment.

“Settle down, boys.” The waitress steps between them, and she jerks her thumb at the bartender, who is scowling at them. “Take it outside.”

“No problem. I’m leaving,” Vergil says. 

“No, you’re not.”

Vergil rolls his eyes. “Can I use your phone to call a cab?”

The girl nods and points to the bar. As Vergil heads in that direction, Dante steps towards him, but the waitress stops him, her hands firmly pushing him back. “I said settle down,” she warns. “Or Pete over there will settle it for you.”

“Pete can go to hell,” Dante snaps.

“Hell? Like where  _ he _ is?” she asks. Dante jerks backwards as she tilts her head towards Vergil, who sits on a stool as the bartender hands him a phone. “Is that what you want, Dante? You want your brother to go back to hell?”

“Who the fuck are you?” he hisses.

The waitress sighs. “He’s happy. You’re happy. Isn’t that enough?”

Dante’s heartbeat pounds in his ears as he pushes the waitress aside. “Vergil! Get out of here!”

Vergil turns with a scowl, probably to curse him out, but then his expression turns to shock. Before Dante can turn to see what he is staring at, claws grab him and toss him into the air. He flies into the wall and a dartboard falls on his head as chunks of wood rain down on him, and Dante shakes his head to clear it.

The waitress hasn’t gone full demon yet, but her eyes are glowing and her fingers now have long spikes at the end. “Ready to choose, Dante?” she hisses.

He climbs to his feet and puts his hand out, summoning Rebellion. But the sword doesn’t materialize, and with a groan he pictures it in the backseat of the car. It probably still obeys his old man, he figures, so Dante picks up a chair and slams it into the ground. He grabs two of the legs and twirls one in his hand. “Lady, you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

A tiny part of him has a momentary fear as he wonders if he can do this. Rebellion didn’t answer his call, so what if his other demon hunting skills are also gone? But as the demon streaks towards him, he easily dodges a punch and delivers one of his own, sending the waitress into the ground. He feels guilty for a second about hitting a girl which he gets over when she lands a kick on his shin. 

Dante lets go a string of curses as they fight, and as he knocks the demon away again he turns to Vergil and shouts, “Yamato! Now!”

Vergil shakes himself from where he sits, staring in shock, the phone receiver forgotten in his hand. “Vergil!” Dante cries, and his brother looks down at the sword he still carries. There is a moment’s hesitation before he tosses it to Dante, who catches it mid-air and pulls the blade from its sheath in one fluid movement. He spins, pulling the sword in an arc around his shoulder, and with one easy slash he slices through the waitress as she springs towards him again.

The bar goes quiet as the chaos stills. Dante laughs as he catches his breath, happily wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket before glancing over at Vergil. “Now do you believe me?” he says.

Vergil lets go a shaky breath. “Is she… like Dad?”

“Yeah. But this one isn’t coming back.” Dante slides Yamato back into its sheath. “Most demons are sons of bitches, like this one. Only a few are—”

His words are cut off as a thick arm goes around his throat, cutting off his airway. Vergil springs to his feet and shouts his name as Dante tries to buck the demon off. It must be the bartender, he realizes, gripping the forearm pressed to his neck and pulling with all his strength.

But the demon doesn’t budge, and Dante gasps out as his blood pumps furiously. “Vergil, run—” he tries to say, Yamato clanging loudly when he drops it to the floor.

“Dante!” Vergil looks almost panicked, starting forward. The demon growls menacingly and he pauses. “What do I do? What do I do?”   
  
“Just go—” The demon cuts him off again, and Dante’s vision swims.

“Stop!” Vergil shouts. “Let him  _ go!” _

Suddenly the air seems to move, swirling in a cyclone around them. Vergil looks furious, his chin dropping as he glares at them, and the demon’s grip loosens. Then every knife in the bar, from behind the counter and the waitress’ station and scattered on the floor from when the fight had toppled the table she had been folding silverware all lift into the air together, dozens and dozens pointed straight at them. “Oh shit,” Dante grunts, and he manages to drop to the floor a split second later as they shoot towards them.

The knives hit their target, and the demon bartender keels over with a groan as the blades slash through his body. Dante rolls out of the way, snatching up Yamato as he stands. With a final kick of his boot to make sure that the bartender is really dead, he carefully skirts the mess in the bar to walk over to Vergil.

His brother seems shell-shocked. “Thanks,” Dante says, handing him the sword.

Vergil nods as he takes it back. “Yeah.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, and together they turn back to the bar and slide into stools next to each other as Dante leans over the counter to snag a bottle and two glasses.


End file.
